


Break Open My Heart, Take a Piece for Yourself

by Bisexual_Bean



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Go look elsewhere for a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, More like Hurt/Comfort/More Hurt, No happy ending here, Ouch, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Why do I always hurt my favorites?, i still don't know how to tag, im sorry, it made me sad, sad times for all, this will make you sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_Bean/pseuds/Bisexual_Bean
Summary: It started with Dick.Everything always started with Dick.First son to the one and only Bruce Wayne. First Robin to Batman. First to take responsibility after Bruce's disappearance...First one dead when disaster decided to crash down on the Wayne family.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	Break Open My Heart, Take a Piece for Yourself

It started with Dick.

Everything _always_ started with Dick.

First son to the one and only Bruce Wayne. First Robin to Batman. First to take responsibility after Bruce's disappearance...

First one dead when disaster decided to crash down on the Wayne family.

Earthquakes were nothing new to the Gotham streets. Before Tim even became CEO, Wayne Enterprises already had several charities going towards the clean up after the destruction, and the safety of the people during. Once Tim was in control, he started putting funding towards sturdier buildings and slowly knocking down the old ones that could cause more problems in the future. Surprisingly though, Bludhaven had managed to build up little protection against them over the years, despite still being in full range for the ones that hit Gotham.

So, when a series of earthquakes hit Gotham rapidly over the course of two days, Gotham barely blinked. Despite the ground shaking, cracks appearing in the cement of the older buildings, waves crashing violently against the docks. The people of Gotham were barely affected.

Dick was in his apartment in Bludhaven when they hit. He hadn't been home. Where he should have been. Where Tim knew he would have been safe.

After the quakes settled Bruce had immediately gone to hunt Dick down, bring him home. Make sure he was safe and unharmed and within arms reach.

Only he came back empty handed.

Tim had been quick to reconize the look on his face as he walked in the door. It was the same look a younger Tim would see on Batman from the rooftops, camera snapping photo after photo as Batman finished beating heavily on some poor thugs caught on the wrong night.

It was a look of pure exhaustion. When Bruce's stress and anguish showed through his masks and the bags under his eyes finally seemed as heavy on Bruce as they always appeared. His stare was clouded with despair. Clouded and pained beyond belief as though he couldn't trust in what he had seen. It was a look Tim hoped he would never have to experience on himself.

The look of a man who had just lost a child.

Tim's breath hitched, unable to gather his thoughts fast enough to reach out and stop Damian from stepping farward. The youngest of the family crossed his arms were he stood boldly in front of his father.

"Father," Damians scowled, eyes flicking around the edges of Bruce's frame as though Dick could simply be hiding from behind his towering form, ready to pop out any second with a 'Surprise! Got you didnt I?'. But Tim knew non would come. "Where is Grayson? Why has he not accompanied you home?"

Bruce didnt answer. Tim honestly didnt think he could even if he had wanted to. He refused to meet either of his sons eyes while he fell to his knees, arms reaching out and tugging Damian to his chest. Vacant eyes squeezed shut in defeat, tucking Damián's head under his chin and burying a hand in his hair. Almost as if he needed a physical reminder that the younger boy was in fact in front of him. Alive.

Behind him, Tim heard Alfred drop whatever platter he was holding, what Tim could only guess was mugs of cocoa dropping to the floor and shattering.

"Father? What is wrong? Where is Grayson?" Tim wished, he _wished_ he could forget the look on Damians face as the boy slowly came to realize what had Bruce in so much pain. 

It was barely noticable unless you were looking for it, but Damian began shaking, fingers trembling where the hung at his side and feet shifting ever so slightly like he didn't trust himself to hold up his weight. "Father," Damian hesitated on his next words, clearing his throat to give himself time to gain control of himself but failing. "Father. Where is Grayson? Where is Grayson father? Where is he?"

Tim covered his mouth with his hand, eyes stinging as he watched his little brother slowly break down.

Because thats just it, isnt it? Damian was just his little brother. A child who should never have had to go thorugh the loss of loosing his big brother, the one who took care of him after Bruce, his father who he barely knew to begin with, suddenly disappeared. Dick was the one who raised Damian for so long, put so much time and effort and patience into understanding Damian when no one else would, gave him a peice of his history to try and recover from his horribly painful upbringing.

Damian struggled against Bruce's hold, attempting to pull away from him but failing. Damián's little fists pounded against Bruce's chest, voice wavering, "Father! Where is Richard! I demand to see Richard! Father! I must see Richard!" Bruce's shoulders shook, barely feeling the assault on his torso as Damian fought against him, only tightening his grip on the smaller body, face buried in the crook of Damian's neck.

Time dragged on, Damians shouts only growing louder over time till he was full on screaming, teeth bared and small nails scratching and pushing at any available skin on Bruce's arms and throat. What felt like hours passed before Tim finally witnessed the fight slowly drain from Damian's body. Watched as he stopped fighting only to collapse against his father's chest, grip on his shirt tight, and sobbed.

It was later that night, after Damian had cried until he was much to exhasted to do otherwise, and Bruce had taken the younger to bed. After Alfred had cleaned up the mess of glass and cocoa before retiring to bed with a weak goodnight, that Tim finally discovered what had happened.

From the news Tim quickly learned that Dicks apartment building had crumpled within minutes of the first quake reaching Bludhaven. Tim knew Dick could have easily escaped through his window, but being the hero Dick was, attempted to help as many people to safety as possible.

They found him buried, a small but still breathing child safely tucked in his arms

\-----

After Dick, Bruce became distant. More quiet.

He was quick to bench both Tim and Damian, stating it was for their own safety. Both sons knew it was because he was afraid of loosing another child, but niether thought it was best to mention the fact that Dick hadn't even been Nightwing when he died.

But while Bruce was quiet, Damian was loud.

After his breakdown he locked himself in his room, destroying everything in sight and soon took his fury to the broken streets of Gotham. Bruce tried. Tim knows he did, to keep the little demon from escaping the manor grounds, but Damian knew too many tricks, was just to slippery for Bruce to get a hold of. He wouldnt listen to anything either of them had to say whenever he would return home from patrol, insisting Dick wouldnt want them to sit around and do nothing while people could be in danger.

There were people that needed saving, and Damian was gonna be the one to do it, even if no one else would help him.

Just like Dick had taught him.

So when he left the cave one day, disappeared into the shadows like his mother had taught him and his father had showned him, trackers left abandoned on the ledge of the bat computer, no one was surprised. 

Bruce, of course, went hunting for him, ordering Tim to stay home.

But when over a day passed with no word from the youngest Tim began to panic, insisting, _begging_ , Bruce to let him hunt him down.

For Tim it wasnt hard to find the warehouse the gang members were hidding out.

It wasnt hard to take them down, perhaps a little more viscously than Tim normally did.

Wasn't hard to unlock the room Tim knew his brother sat behind, could almost imagine him 'tt'ing and mocking Tim for not arriving quicker.

But _G_ _od_ was it hard to push the door open, heart hammering away in his chest, only to see his little brother limb on the ground. For a split second Tim could imagine he saw Damian's thin chest fluttering in quick, barely noticable breaths, but taking in the rest of the room he couldnt force himself to ignore it for long.

Parts of Damian's suit were ripped away and torn, sun kissed skin like his mothers shown to the world. Glossy, wide eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, lips parted as though he passed mid-sentence. Surrounding him were bloody needles, some still stabbed into the peeling skin of his neck and sides, others discarded on the ground around him, glass shattered as though he broke some in the struggle.

Tim's heart flew fast up into his throat before dropping like a weight to his stomach. Clutching at his torso tight enough to leave bruises, he turned and emptied his stomach of everything he had managed to eat in the past week since Dick's death.

He was vaguely aware of Batman's thundering voice in his ear, asking for his location. Tim thought he managed to whisper the address of the warehouse through all his coughing, but didn't know for sure until Batman pushed passed him, nearly sending him to the dirty floor with how unsteady Tim stood.

Behind the pounding in Tim's ears he could make out feather light footsteps crossing the room, the crunch of shards as Batman stepped on empty syringes, and picked his son off the ground, tucking his limb body tight against his chest similarly to how he did a week ago.

"Red Robin, we are heading home. Now." The tone left no room for argument. The look on Batmans face painfully blank as he passed by Tim, paying the beaten cruminals littered around no attention.

Tim didn't care if they were in costume. He couldn't help the name slipping through his lips, throat dry and scratchy. "B...Bruce..."

"I said we are going home!" Batman snapped, keeping his back to Tim. 

Tim's unfocused gaze watched Damian's small hand swinging back and forth as Batman left him in the warehouse.

\-----

Tim honestly wasnt surprised when Bruce was next.

After Damian, Bruce poured himself into any scrap of work he could find. He refused to talk the few times Tim managed to make it down to the cave, eyes cold and dark and dangerous to the point Tim thought it best to leave him alone after the first few times he tried convincing the older man get some rest only to earn himself a certified Batman glare.

It frightened Tim to watch the man he had looked up to, saw as a father, crumble until he was but a hollow shell.

Tim wanted to scream at him. _I'm still here!_ He wanted to scream in Bruces face. _I miss them too, but youre acting like youve lost everyone when IM STILL HERE!_

But he didn't. He kept to himself. Didn't mention Bruce's outings that became more frequent, both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. Didn't question when one day, Bruce didnt return home from patrol.

No tears were shed when Tim saw the news the next day, covering what seemed to be once a warehouse by the docks (Not far from the one Tim had found Damians body in) completely destroyed.

Bruce had been going after the Joker last Tim had gathered, who just couldn't take a hint and leave Batman to mourn his loss'. The news somehow had gotten ahold of footage from insite the building before the bomb went off (And while there was no proof, Tim suspected the Joker being behind it, wanting the world to see his grand finally). Batman had managed to free several citizens that were strapped to a bomb with a big grin painted on it, only to be shot in the side by the Joker himself.

Tim waited for Bruce to stand up, continue the fight like he had witnessed Bruce do time and time again in the past. But Bruce just fell to the ground. 

Defeated.

Apparently not thinking Batman had been through enough torture, The Joker jumped on the chance to tease him over the death of his 'dead little Robin', slyly mentioning how easy it had been to take the feisty fellow down and hand him over to the gang to do with as they pleased.

It had finally been what pushed Batman to the edge. Leaping forward, paying little to no mind of his wound, Batman tackled the Joker. Tim watched helplessly while the two wressled back and forth for several minutes before Batman yanked the gun from the Jokers grasp and put a bullet right between the clowns eyes.

The Joker had gone limb (Much like Damian's small body had laying on that dirty floor, or how Dick's must have looked as they pulled his body out from the rubble) and Batman began to cry.

He didn't sob. Didn't make a sound as the tears streamed down his face. The only sound was the quiet ticking of the bomb easily seeable behind him.

Tim's tongue was caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, wanted to drag Bruce from his spot on top of the Jokers too-still body. But the footage had already happened, there was nothing Tim could do from where he sat frozen in the living room.

Batman had his head bowed, shoulders shaking. Maybe somewhere in his mind he was thinking about Tim. About how this was going to affect him. Maybe he was sorry for leaving Tim like he was. Did he know he was being recorded? Did he know Tim would see his final moments?

Tim watched as Batmans shoulders sagged- lips moving in silence.

Tim read the words perfectly, knew he would see them every time he closed his eyes for the rest of his life.

'Dad's coming boys..."

The screen bloomed into a blinding white

And the Gotham Knight was no more.

\-----

The family was broken.

Tim found it increasingly difficult to drag himself out of bed, let alone his room. The nightmares haunted him, but the idea of facing what happened was even more terrifying.

Alfred tried. Tim could tell. The old man tried to make sure he ate, that Tim at least walked around the house once a day, 'Just to get you a change of scenery Master Tim,' he would say. But Tim could tell Alfred was struggling too. Struggling to find a balancing point between mourning a man he had thought of as his son, two boys who were like his grandchildren, and trying to keep the rest of the family (No matter how small) together and alive.

Unfortunatly it seemed like it was all to much for his fragile heart to take.

A month after Dick's death, Alfred was found on the kitchen floor, body cold after suffering a heart attack.

He died alone despite having Tim home with him the whole time. He could have survived had Tim known sooner.

It was his fault.

\-----

It was only a day after Alfred's death. Tim hadn't left his bed. His phone (Both personal and vigilante) had been going off so often with calls from W.E. to Superman himself. Tim had turned his phone off some point between his 7th phone call from Tammy, and his 15th text from Connor.

Tim should have noticed when someone managed to get passed the manors defenses (Built to stop even Clark Kent himself). Should have noticed when someone slipped through his window in the middle of the night, when barely there shadows danced around the floor of his room.

Should have cared when a heavy hand smoothed through his matted, greasy hair, or when unsure arms pulled him into a careful embrace, as though afraid they would break him if they squeezed to hard.

"Baby bird..." A deep voice murmured against his temple. Tim's breath hitched, because just for a moment he imagined it was Dick holding him, whispering that stupid nickname that Tim always said he hated.

But the voice wasn't Dick's. Tim knew that. Because Dick was dead.

"Timbo...please say something..."

Jason.

Tim could laugh. He wanted to laugh.

Jason had come back to the family, _finally_ , only for there to be no family for him to actually come home to. Because it was just Tim. Only Tim. No one _but_ Tim.

In a big empty house, all alone, just like it was when he was a little kid with a camera that was so desperate for just an ounce of happiness he chased vigilantes across rooftops.

Tim didn't even speak, didn't even look up to meet Jason's eyes before he found himself clinging to Jason's jacket, out-grown nails digging into the fabric and sobbing into the older mans shirt. Jason simply strocked his hair, rubbing random shapes into his back as he whispered words like 'i'ts ok' and 'let it all out' and 'I'm sorry'

Jason. The Red Hood. The ex Robin who had tried to kill him several times, was apologizing.

Tim really should be laughing.

It seemed to have been hours before Tim tired himself out enough to stop crying. Jason leaned back enough to look at his face, a deep frown set on his features and a thumb coming to brush any remaining tears away from under his eyes. 

"You're not staying here. You're gonna come home with me okay?"

Tim couldn't even force himself to nod, his body a painful mixture of numb and exhausted as he watched Jason Peter Todd flicker around the room, packing up clothing for Tim to use along with any other items he might need.

Tim let himself be lulled to sleep as Jason carried him through the echoing house and outside, tucking him close to his chest as he drove the two of them to whatever safehouse Jason had turned into a home.

\-----

It was several months after Jason stole him from the manor.

He was still getting nightmares every night. Flashes of Damian's fragile body, Of Alfred's blue finger tips or Bruce's empty expression. Or Dick's bruised body or the Jokers echoing laugh before the gunshot. Jason, who obviously dealt with plenty of his own nightmares, continued to console him every night with practiced ease, holding the smaller boy close to him and reading whatever book be was on until Tim drifted back to sleep.

But Tim was also smiling. It was a rare thing, normally after Jason told a truly horrid joke or showed him a funny cat video Roy had sent him, and they were the smallest upward tilt of the lips, but it was a smile.

He was finally able to see Jason as the brother Dick always said he was- or at least what he could be. Jason would cook, going on about the most random things, woiuld take Tim out for short walks around the block because 'you;re pale and thin as a twig. And I cant be living with no pale, thin twig Tim. I have a reputation to keep up ya know?'.

Jason didn't patrol anymore. Tim himself refused to fly through the streets like he once had.

But they were happy. Or as happy as they could hope to be after everything.

So why did Tim always ruin everything he touched?

It wasn't on patrol. It wasn't as Red Robin and Red Hood. It wasn't after a beating with a crowbar, or a bomb set to go off, or even a gun.

It was all because of a small fucking pocket knife.

Because Jason refused to let Tim be hurt and pushed him out of the way as the mugger rushed towards them with a dingy little knife, stabbing it blindly into Jasons chest before sprinting away without even asking for money or a wallet or either of their watches.

Tim dragged his brothers body through the cold, dark streets of Gotham, trying his best to keep Jason's eyes opened and on him as he called 911.

"You need to stay awake Jason."

Jason's head rolled to the side. He had lost a lot of blood despite the sweatshirt Tim had instantly stripped out of and pressed to the wound to try and clot the bleeding. It was soaked through and Tim could already imagine the color stained onto his hands as he pressed it harder against Jasons chest.

"I didn't think this was how I would die the second time around...I...I always wanted to go out...out guns blazing..." A gasp for air, "Ya know..?" Jasons words slurred, blurring together as Tim shushed him.

"Stop talking Nonsense Jason. 911 is on the way, you need to conserve energy."

Jason batted at his hands, coughing as he struggled to breath passed the blood obviously filling his lung. Tim tried to keep his breathing together as he noticed Jason's hands coated in crimson.

His big brother offered him a bloody smile. "I'm glad I got to know you Replacement..."

Tim clenched his jaw. "Don't speal like you're actually gonna die on me. You're the Red Hood. You can't die to a low life mugger with a pocket knife, your street cred will just vanish all together."

That earned a wet laugh that quickly transformed into another cough. Tim gripped the the shoulder of Jason's leather jacket tighter. "Why would you even push me out of the way? I could have handled it..."

Jason's eyes began to unfocused as he took longer to open his lids after each blink, head rolling against Tims shoulder. "It was what Dick...would have done...What a b...big brother should always do..I'm..I'm really happy that I...I...I got to be your big brother Timbo...Even if it...it was only for a little while..." Jasons body slumped further, to the point of Tim needing to drag him.

Tears were choking him. "Jason please, _please_ , don't do this to me... you promised to make me REAL chinese food for dinner tomarrow. not that 'crummy stuff you can get at any who-how' remember? You can't just drop on me now."

Jason attempted to smile again. The blood in his teeth made it look more like a grimace. "T...That stuff...is horrible..." A shuddering gasp, "You...you need to try the real...real stuff Timb...berino…."

Tim could feel tears in his eyes. He could hear sirens. "Jason please, just a little longer. Just hold on a little longer. Don't leave me alone."

Tim waited for an answer. A response. A remark. A comment. Hell, even a wet cough.

He got silence.

Tim froze where he stood, feet refusing to move as he stared down at them. His breath hitched.

"Jay...?"

Nothing.

"Jason...?"

Nothing.

"Jason...Please?"

Nothing.

Tim could see the red and blues flashing in front of him. Could hear the shouting of Commissioner Gordon calling his name.

But to Tim it was all background noise. Because he could no longer feel Jason's chest rise and fall unsteadily under his hand. Could no longer feel the stuttering breaths against the back of his ear.

Jason was gone. He left Tim alone.

Tim was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at like 4AM who knows how long ago in the notes on my phone and just transferring and rewriting it made me sad all over again. Let me know if I missed any mistakes, Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
